


Stray bullet

by Booker_DeShit



Series: The autistic DeWitt's series [4]
Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: Accidents, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Autistic Booker DeWitt, Autistic Elizabeth (BioShock), Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Depressing, Dialogue-Only, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, I mean, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Look this really doesnt end happily, Multiple Endings, No Fluff, No Romance, Not A Fix-It, Not shown on screen however, Plus Booker himself is really depressed, Sad Ending, Self-Hatred, Sorry Not Sorry, Sort Of, This doesn't mean any of them will be happy, Very vageuly tho, Whump, but thats only for the last chapter, far from it, last chapter actually touches upon that, so this coul very well have happened in one of them, there are infinite universes in bioshock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21755596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Booker_DeShit/pseuds/Booker_DeShit
Summary: A stray bullet hits Elizabeth during their run in Fink's factory. Booker isn't taking it very well, & the Luteces have given up hope for this version of him.
Relationships: Booker DeWitt & Elizabeth
Series: The autistic DeWitt's series [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559641
Comments: 8
Kudos: 12





	1. Bullet rain

One second, she was safely behind him, protected from the horrors of the bullet shower by his own gun & body. The next second, she lay at his feet, a bullet wound caused by his own hand bleeding profusely. She looked up at him with teary, blue eyes, her delicate features contorted grotesquely with pain. His heart seemed to stop beating at the terrified look she gave him, wordlessly pleading to him. She felt so light in his arms when he picked her up, barely skin & bones. So small he could hold her with one hand as he took the Skyhook out. He pressed a hand to the wound, the blood seeping through her blouse & staining his fingers with another innocent’s life. 

“Booker.” She gasped out when he got onto the Skyline.

“I know, it hurts, I know.” He hushed her, his only goal being to get out of there as fast as possible.

“Booker, the gunsmith.”

“We’ll get to him when you’re ok.” She didn’t say anything else, too weak to even lift her head from where it rested on his shoulder. Even when the police kept on chasing him, even when bullets whistled past him, he kept on going, his own wounds nothing compared to what Elizabeth was going through. He only stopped when he found himself in a quiet nook of the Fink factory, up at the top floor of some abandoned house. The place had been trashed & stripped bare of any & all essentials, but there was still an intact bed in one of the bedrooms, a little cot, & that was quite enough. He placed her as gentle down on it as possible, & kneeled down beside her. He felt tears prick at his eyes when he realised that he didn’t know what to do. He had no medical skill, he barely knew how to patch up cuts & bruises, but a bullet wound?

“Booker.” Elizabeth moaned out in pain. Maybe he could at least do something for the pain? He took out a flask from his pocket, pressing it to Elizabeth’s lips.

“Here. It’ll help the pain.” She grimaced when the alcohol hit her tongue, but Booker held her till he decided she had enough. Then he set to work. He peeled back her shirt & the extent of his actions looked back at him. The bullet had gone in deep, tearing up her side. The wound was bleeding heavily, & would most likely need stitches, something Booker didn’t think he’d do effectively. He took a swig of the alcohol himself, in hopes of calming his nerves slightly, but it didn’t stop his hands from shaking. The bullet proved hard to removed, especially since he had to do it with his fingers. Constantly, his thoughts went to how that was all his fault, how that was his bullet, from his gun. It was his finger on the trigger, he was the one that pulled it. He was the one who shot her.

He had no first aid kits near him, nothing to actually do the stitches. There was still running water however, & he could at least clean out the wound before bandaging it. Elizabeth didn’t even react when he dragged a wet cloth over her bleeding side. He hoped it was just the alcohol doing its job. Then he wrapped the wound in some fresh bandages, before sitting back down beside the cot, blood-stained hands in his lap. Images flashed through his mind, the sounds of guns & yells drowning out all the other noises. He saw her, in the corner of his eye, hiding behind a wall. His Salts run out at that moment, before he saw Elizabeth rushing over.

_“I’ll find you some Salts!”_ She yelled.

_“Elizabeth! Wait!”_ He heard himself scream, just as she run right in front of his gun. Her pained scream was louder than every other sound on the battle field. Her terrified expression was the most prominent, the only thing he saw in his mind’s eye. He could still feel the warm gun in his hands, could feel himself pull the trigger. Elizabeth was right, he was nothing more than a thug. No, he was a monster. A monster that killed, & took the lives of innocent people, & hurt those that didn’t deserve it. Oh, god, he was a monster!

“Elizabeth, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, Elizabeth.” He babbled to himself, like the chants of a madman. He repeated those words until his voice had gone hoarse & he had fallen away into an uneasy sleep by her side, but it didn’t feel like enough. His own words felt empty & meaningless, like his side of the matter didn’t matter, because how can anyone ever be forgiven for the things he had done?


	2. The fall of a songbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ending 1

Booker woke up the next morning, an ache in his neck. He hadn’t slept well, back pressed against the wall & his head in his hand uncomfortable. Nightmares plagued his mind, making it impossible to sleep for longer than short bursts throughout the night. His sleep was interspersed with heavy drinking, falling back on old habits as he always did. In the moments when his mind was, unfortunately, mostly clear, he felt the silent tears staining his cheeks, & painful blood stained his wrists. Not once did he check on Elizabeth, a deep, gripping fear inside of him let only his eyes roam over her still body. She didn’t look much different, it seemed almost as if she were asleep. Her hair had gotten out of its ties, dark locks framing her pale face as if it were an angel’s halo. A delicate wrist rested over her stomach & her lips were slightly parted. She didn’t look any different from how he imagined she’d look asleep. He hoped, wished with all of his being that she was asleep, that she was just resting, & the crimson stain underneath her didn’t mean anything. Booker shuffled closer to her, blissfully ignoring Elizabeth’s stillness, the fact that her chest didn’t move with her breath. He picked up one of her hands, dwarfed against his own palm. Her skin was delicate & unmarred, & cold like the thimble she wore on her pinky finger. Booker’s heart jumped into his throat, & he choked up. When he pressed two fingers to Elizabeth’s fragile wrist, he didn’t want his fear to come true. He didn’t want to be met with no pulse, with the lack of life that unbelievably came from Elizabeth, so young & full of life. Booker dropped her wrist when he felt nothing after a minute & he let out an anguished cry, a scream of pain & anger.

“I killed her. I did!” He yelled, angry tears streaming down his face. Angry at who? At Columbia? Fink? Maybe Comstock? Or at himself? He was a monster, nothing more, nothing less; an unstoppable killing-machine, only good at taking lives.

“If it is any consolidation to you, it was an accident.” Robert Lutece stood behind him, in his prim & proper way, sharing words of comfort in the only way he knew.

“Get out.”

“Pardon?”

“GET OUT!” Booker roared, shooting crows at the man who intruded on his grief. Robert simply nodded, & disappeared from the room. Booker was left alone in the room. Alone with Elizabeth’s corpse. Alone with his grief. Alone with his immeasurable sins & regrets of a life full of murder & violence. That’s where he stayed, until hunger & fatigue got to him, until Columbia fell. Until a Booker in another world drowned in the waters of baptism that washed away the man he once was & the man he never wanted to become.


	3. Drowning away his sins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ending 2

Elizabeth woke up to sunshine in her face, & pain in her side. She wasn’t sure where she was, or why she was there. Everything from last night seemed so blurry, she couldn’t remember very much. She remembered the pain, the pain that seemed almost overwhelming, almost unbearable. She also remembered Booker’s face. He was looking down at her, & he looked worried. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen Booker cry before, until that moment, where she saw unshed tears glisten in his green eyes. Was he crying over her? She didn’t like that. She liked Booker, she enjoyed his company, she didn’t want to see him sad. He wasn’t there where she lay, but he must have surely been in the same building. Elizabeth looked around herself, recognising the room for a bedroom. She first decided to wait until he returned, but she couldn’t stand laying still for so long, & eventually decided to get up. Pain hit her the moment she tried standing up, her side burning.

“Ah.” It made it hard to even think, hard to remember what happened & what she was doing. Booker, she had to find Booker. But she couldn’t, crumbling to the floor from the pain. She lay there for a while, curled around her aching side, until the pain seemed to fade away, at least slightly. Although she was shaky on her feet, she managed to get herself up, shuffling along the hall & steadying herself on the wall. She didn’t find Booker in the kitchen, in the living room, or the bathroom. She found him in the study. When she passed the threshold, she saw him sitting in the chair on the other side of the room. It was facing the big open window on the opposite wall.

“Booker! I’ve been looking all over for you,” She called out to him with a laugh, “Booker, come on,” She shuffled up to him when he didn’t answer. Was he asleep? Elizabeth’s heart skipped a beat when the worst scenario went through her mind, but she pushed that aside. She placed a hand on his shoulder when she reached him, & he didn’t even flinch, “Booker? Booker, please. This isn’t funny,” She begged him, shaking his shoulder. It was only when she shuffled to the front right in front of him that she knew he wouldn’t answer her. There was a bullet hole right in the centre of his forehead, & there was a gun gripped tight in his hand, “Booker.” Elizabeth whimpered, sliding down into a sitting position beside him. She pressed her forehead to his knee & cried. How could she have let this happen? 

“He did it to protect you.” Elizabeth didn’t turn but she recognised the voice Rosalind Lutece.

“But why?” She sobbed.

“Although it was an accident, it was he who shot you. He believed you would be safer without him around.” It was true, wasn’t it? It all seemed so blurry, but the previous day was coming back to her. Elizabeth didn’t notice when Rosalind left, she was too preoccupied with her tears, her guilt. If only she had been more careful.

She didn’t know how long she had sat there beside him. A while, that was for sure. Everything around her faded into a blur, until she opened her eyes at some point & stood in water, by a river bank. That was the last time she saw Booker alive, & she was thankful to be gone once Booker was dead. 


	4. Starting again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Luteces discuss their latest failure

"Well, this is a shame, brother."

"I couldn't agree more."

"It seems like there is no more hope for them."

"The only logical step is to start again."

"Indeed."

"Maybe this time he will succeed?"

"All we can do is wait... and observe."


End file.
